


third wheel blues: how Otabek Altin nearly fucked everything up

by Blownwish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Frotting, Jjbek, M/M, Oral Sex, Otabek POV, Otapliroy, Pliroy, angsty-bek, crazy jj, finger banging, otayuri - Freeform, third wheel beks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 18:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14002023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: Jean and Yuri wanted Otabek to come and play in Havana, but it looked like they were getting along just fine without him. Only, Otabek can’t get along without them.





	third wheel blues: how Otabek Altin nearly fucked everything up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YurioElio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YurioElio/gifts).



If he’s caught it’s going to be a scandal: _Triangle on Ice — Kazakh skater breaks into lover’s hotel room._ It’ll ruin his career, and probably his life, but half a fifth of vodka says it’s a brilliant idea. So Otabek slides the card key he pocketed from the maid’s cart warier this morning through the lock and he’s breaking the law all over again. He’s rusty, out of practice. Hell, what is he even doing here?

Jean’s ISU pass dangles on the night table. He’s never that still when he’s smiling like that. Otabek knows he’s not here. Jean broadcasts his life on his Instagram; he’s at the Bujie, posting pics with lots of colored lights and blurred bodies. Jean’s talent is in making everything a circus act, not photography. The smile on his pass belongs on the Joker, not a good Catholic Boy.

He’s stepping over cat-shirts and black leggings and a hoodie with tigers. A half empty cheetah print suitcase on the bed is filled with more of the same.

Otabek checks Yuri’s account on his phone. He expects one or two in focus selfies, and Jean’s beaming face is right there, next to a very serious Yuri. He’s dressed in a tight black tank top Otabek’s never seen before. Jean’s not trying to hide the bite mark on his neck.

He sits on the bed and alternates between their accounts. It’s just more terrible blurry pictures on Jean’s. He looks through hashtags and sees much more. Jean’s trying hard to take selfies with Yuri grinding up against him.

Otabek helps himself to what’s left of his fifth. If he drinks enough he’ll disappear completely and they won’t see him. But he will see them. He will watch them.

++

“You like me?” Otabek asked. Jean was blushing, and Otabek knew. “Yeah, you like me.”

Jean turns back to shovel the driveway. “Stop.” He was probably worried his siblings will see. Let them see. They watched Jean lay it on thick with that fanclub girl all the time.

“You a virgin?” He stood on the snow Jean was trying to shovel. “You scared?”

Jean looked back to check the windows. “Look, I can’t, okay?” He was frowning. Otabek saw a line between JJ’s eyes. The one Otabek saw when Jean’s brother Alex was going too far. “So can you drop it?”

But Jean was always watching when they changed together. Jean’s smile never left but his eyes narrowed and stayed somewhere between Otabek’s pecs and thighs. And then there was the time Jean got a hard on watching Otabek towel off at the pool. He couldn’t hide the mast poking through his trunks no matter how much he tried to waive his hands and joke.

“Your parents won’t be surprised. Ten kids? All of them straight? Not likely.” He sighed. “But hey, it’s your life. Enjoy it, suffer. You got your reasons.” Otabek wasn’t going to get worked up about it. He’d just steal Jean’s little fangirl or something.

Jean brought it up after they were upstairs in his attic room, pulling off their thermals. “You make it sound easy. Mess around, _fuck_.” Jean stares at the wood paneling, not Otabek, this time. “It’s not true though. Is it? It’s not easy.”

He stroked himself through his briefs. “Turn around.” He didn’t expect Jean to listen, so Otabek was already pushing him up against the wall. Otabek half expected the kid to hit him. But he didn’t. No, he let Otabek pin him there without a struggle. And Jean’s eyes were as grey as that cloudy winter sky. “There’s more than just fucking.”

He pulled down Jean’s boxers as he slid to his knees. Jean was hard, so big and so hard, and Jean sobbed when Otabek spat and worked his foreskin up and down. He put his hand over his mouth and sobbed some more when Otabek sucked him. He was crying. Fat tears, two of them, slid down his face and over his fingers. But he kept nodding down at Otabek. His other hand grabbed Otabek’s hair and moved his head back and forth. Then he grabbed on with both hands, and his last sob was so loud as he came so hard, there was so much come. Jean was so much.

Jean was sitting on the floor staring off into space after Otabek spat his come in the toilet. “Well?” He was waiting for more tears. Or maybe Jean would go catatonic, like he did when Celestino sent him packing back in Detroit. Otabek kicked his calf, just a nudge, really. “Hey, you upset or something?”

The smile was big and it was like a flash. “Bet I could do better.”

God, this guy was a fucking _trip_. Otabek snorted. “Only one way to find out.”

“You’re not cut, either.” Jean pulled his underwear down after he said that. He’d looked enough to know. Otabek watched him run his nervous hands up and down his thighs. “I’m going to swallow.”

“Talk’s cheap, Jean.” Otabek placed his hands on either side of his head and guided him down. Jean looked up just as the tip of his cock slid into his mouth. “That’s it. You like that?”

He couldn’t answer with much more than a grunt, but Otabek knew he did. He liked it a lot. But that was a given.

++

The door slamming wakes him up. Otabek rolls off the bed and peers over the mattress. God, he’s still drunk. The room is tilting as Yuri bursts into the room like a supernova, laughing as he pulls Jean behind him.

Is this really happening?

Yuri pushes his back against the wall and Jean chuckles when Yuri tugs Jean by the lapel. “Come here.” He pulls Jean’s head down, he kisses Jean, and he moans.

Otabek feels like he doesn’t exist. He’s forgotten, he’s transparent, he’s disappeared completely and it’s his fault. Yuri falls to his knees, Jean murmurs low and dirty Quebecois, and Otabek doesn’t have to see to know he’s threading his fingers in Yuri’s hair.

“What are you doing to me?” Jean never said anything like that to Otabek. “Kitty— oh, sweet kitty cat!” Never called him pet names, either.

Then again, Otabek never did that kind of thing, either. There were lots of things he never did. Things he’s not sure he can do.

Jean groans. “I want to come inside you.” Yuri growls when Jean pulls him up. Otabek catches the flush on his face. His lips are red and he’s beautiful, so damn beautiful.

He shoves Jean against the wall and tears off Jean’s button down. Buttons fly revealing a new tattoo in the middle of his chest: a broken heart.

 _Why?_ Otabek doesn’t understand but there is a gasp. A gasp loud as loud as a thunderclap. Otabek doesn’t realize it’s his until Jean looks up and locks eyes with him.

Otabek is not so invisible after all.

++

They were going to get pool water on their suits, no matter how high up they rolled the slacks. But fuck it. Sneaking out of a Grand Prix banquet with a stolen magnum of Dom and Yuri Plisetsky was crazy enough. Sticking their feet in the pool was nothing.

“Okay. I got one.” Yuri cleared his throat. “Never have I ever gotten drunk before.”

Otabek’s eyebrow went up. “Irony hurts. Can’t drink.” He smiled when Yuri laughed. “Now you.”

Yuri kicked. Water splashed all over them, and it was fine. Otabek didn’t like this suit all that much, anyway. It made him look like his father. “No! Do it right!”

Otabek sighed. “Never have I ever - ” He turned and he tilted his head “ - had sex.”

Yuri blinked. He didn’t drink. Then he said, “Never have I ever, same question.” He bit his lip when Otabek didn’t move. “Wow. With a guy?”

He took off his tie. “You didn’t ask right.” He felt less like his father. “But yeah. Been with a guy. Have you ever? With a guy I mean? Or never?”

Yuri nodded. “He’s a skater. But it’s weird. We don’t talk much. Not like I can talk to you.”

Otabek wondered who this idiot was and why he wasn’t here. “But you want to?” He took a drink from the bottle when Yuri sighed. He shouldn’t have been jealous. It wasn’t like Otabek wasn’t involved with someone else, too.

“What about your guy. Can you talk to him?” His face was in shadows. His voice was low.

Talk? To Jean? He barely had time to touch him. The name of the game these days was quick and secret; Jean would pull him into a corner and shove Otabek’s hand down his pants, or unzip their flies and grind their cocks together while he whispered filthy sounding shit in Québécois. “What we do, it’s not talk.”

“Who is he?”

Otabek shook his head. “He doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“Wow.” Yuri huffed. “That’s what this guy says, too. Wouldn’t it be fucked up if we were both fucking the same guy?”

Otabek pushed the bottle neck in Yuri’s hand. “Never have I ever…” He wanted to ask a question but he knew the answer. He could feel the weight of it. But he didn’t want to care when Yuri was as ripe as fruit and ready to be plucked. “Kissed Otabek Altin.”

Yuri took a drink that was far too long and gasped when he was done. Then he grabbed Otabek by the lapels and disqualified himself from ever drinking to that question again with a sloppy, open mouth champagne kiss.

Then he shoved Otabek in the pool, suit and all.

How did Yuri Plisetsky do it? How did he turn the world upside down? A splash behind him sounded off like a gunshot. Otabek grabbed Yuri’s body and Otabek turned him around. Yuri’s blond hair floated like a cloud. Otabek pulled it back, cupped his cheeks and kissed him. Teased his mouth open with his tongue. Yuri lapped back against it.

Just like Jean.

They gasped when they came up for air. Yuri’s lips trembled as he touched Otabek’s, and Otabek could tell Yuri knew, too. He tried to say something like sorry. Yuri shook his head and took his mouth and kissed the words away.

There were hands and lips and clothes that wouldn’t come off as they ground against each other. Yuri choked when Otabek cupped his ass and Otabek groaned when Yuri wrapped his legs around him. They kept kissing. Kept moving against each other.

“Do you think he knows about us?” Yuri asked, later in Otabek’s hotel room, with his head on Otabek’s lap, tracing circles on Otabek’s thigh.

“You saw the way he choked out there.” Otabek took a deep breath. “Makes sense. He sees the two guys he’s screwing getting along. He freaks out.”

“Yeah, well fuck that asshole. It’s what he gets for being such a closet case.” Yuri pinched him. “Hey! Don’t tell me you feel bad for him?”

Otabek could see the way Yuri tried to sneer. But he couldn’t. His lips were quivering. Otabek combed through Yuri’s hair and rubbed a tear out with his thumb before Yuri could hide it. He knew Jean was probably crying, too. “You’re not going to stop seeing him.” It wasn’t a question. Otabek’s finger over Yuri’s lips stopped the denial. “It’s okay. You don’t have to lie.”

Yuri took his finger away. He held Otabek’s hand in his. “You’re not going to stop either, are you?”

“We still gonna talk?” Suddenly the answer is more important to Otabek than anything.

Yuri looked at his hand. He looked at Otabek. “I guess that’s okay. I mean, is it okay? With you?”

He bent his head and answered him with a kiss. Then he picked up his phone and tapped out a message. He showed it to Yuri, Yuri nodded and Otabek hit send. It was just two words to one person —

_we’re cool_

++

Otabek knows what Jean is capable of. He’s seen Jean clock his brother with an uppercut that landed Alex on his ass when he called Jean a pansy for ice skating. He’s seen Jean drag a basketball player out of a minivan and when he was caught making out in front of their house with his sixteen year old sister. He practically drop kicked the guy. And he’s seen Jean on a manic high, punching holes in the wall at the mere mention of the name Celestino. He knows Jean is more than able to bear the hell out of anything or anyone if the mood is right and he thinks the guy is wrong. And there is no way of know where Otabek stands right now. Not with that broken heart on Jean’s chest. He’s just going to have to remember to keep his guard up; Jean’s got a killer right hook.

But Jean’s not giving him the dead level stare. He’s standing there, perfectly still, as if he can’t bring himself to believe what he’s seeing. “Otabek.”

Yuri growls. “Don’t mention that name again!” He tries to pull Jean back into a kiss, jean shakes his head and points. And Otabek feels his gut ache when Yuri is the one who gives him the glare. “Fucking hell! What the fuck are you even doing here?” He turns and he’s about to come at him. Otabek wonders how badly he wants Yuri to hit him when Jean pulls Yuri back.

Otabek stands and Jean puts his hand up. “Why?” Jean asks him. “Why are you here?”

Yuri glares and Otabek can _feel_ it. He’s heard the voice message, the long tirade alternating between Russian and English. The declaration of absolute and perfect hate after what had happened in Havana. He just never saw the disgust. Yuri might’ve stopped trying to break free but he’s still glaring as if he couldn’t stand the sight of him. As if he wanted him wiped off the map, forever. “I don’t know why. You two, I knew you two would be here. And I had to come. That’s all.” Yuri stops struggling

Jean’s lips press together. “For what? For him? Me?” Jean’s Adam’s apple bobs.

Otabek shakes his head. “I don’t know why.” It’s a small whisper.

Somehow Yuri pushes past JJ. The world turns sideways. Incredibly, miraculously he’s pinned Otabek to the mattress and he’s _kissing_ him. He’s biting and he’s cursing but his hands cup Otabek’s face and Otabek realizes Yuri is crying. He’s crying. “I’m sorry,” Otabek says. He never meant to make him cry.

He didn’t know he could.

“Asshole!” Yuri sobs against his mouth. “You fucking stupid — you fucking douchebag _asshole_!”

He keeps saying sorry. He means it. He punctuates every kiss with another apology, one after the other. But those tears, that broken heart tattoo — he didn’t know. He had no idea. Another hand touches Otabek’s face. He shudders. “Jean.”

“Say this is real.” The mattress dips and Jean is next to him. His arms wrap around him. “Please say it’s real this time.”

And Jean kisses him, softly.

++

For some damn reason Jean couldn’t stop messaging Otabek. It wasn’t just texts. God, if it was just texts about the wonders of Yuri’s ass milking the come out of his balls, and there were plenty like that, Otabek would’ve been fine. But no. Jean had pictures. He had … so many pictures. Pictures and videos. Pictures of Jean balls deep inside Yuri’s creamy ass. Pictures of Yuri flat on his back, Jean’s thumb hooked in the corner of his mouth. Yuri was sobbing. His face was red. A drop of come was dripping down his cheek. Then there were the pictures Jean took with a mirror, when Yuri was on his knees giving him a blow job. Yuri was looking at the camera, at Jean really, with a mouth stuffed full of cock. Jean’s cock.

_he talks tough but he’s real sweet like this, right?_

Confessing the Barcelona incident to Jean was probably the worst thing thing to ever happen to Otabek’s cell phone battery. The guy wasn’t mad. Not at all. It was like Jean thought they were part of a special club now. Funny, it used to just be the two of them and now it was something else.

_man we should all three smash you know?_

Otabek got that message after practice one day. He figured Jean would eventually say something like that. In Jean’s mind it was all dirty, so a little more wasn’t going to be any worse. It was all easily packed m into one little word for the confessional booth.

He spent an extra hour on his weight training to push the text out of his mind. By the time he was done Jean had flooded his phone.

_it’s like it’s meant to be right? you and me and that sexy little kitty we are gonna be so good together._

_he’s so hot when he’s about to come! he’ll do just about anything to get off!_

_Hey you can do him while I do you_

Otabek got turned on when Jean talked dirty, but there was something about this. It made him jealous, sad, _lonely_. Then he saw the last message.

 _DUDE MY DUDE!! just talked to kitty cat he wants to meet up with BOTH OF US in Havana! Lets go!!!!!_ The emojis were textbook Jean. Lots of goofy winks and tongues sticking out.

Otabek tossed his phone on the kitchen table with his keys when he got back to the apartment. It was small and cramped and there was nothing to do but shower and wait for sleep to take him. He dropped his shirt on the floor. The sweat pants, too. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror and wondered what he would say. But when he looked himself in the eye he knew the answer.

He sent a simple yes to Jean before he went to bed. Nothing else. Then the phone rang. It was Yuri’s number. He didn’t answer it. He knew Yuri talked to Jean already. He had nothing to say to them — nothing that didn’t sound desperate and pathetic. Otabek switched off the ringer and went to bed, raging at them in his head. He had a long day ahead of him tomorrow.

++

How is this real? How is this possible? They’re both kissing him. They’re kissing each other, then back to kissing him, back and forth, over and over. And it’s like they’re trying to convince themselves that this little spot in space and time is real, too.

How likely is it, in this whole universe, that his lips will collide against Yuri’s at this angle? Yuri smiles and it feels impossible. “What’s the matter with you?” He pushes his finger against Otabek’s jaw and Otabek lets him. “Tch! Come when you’re not invited, huh?” Otabek shrugs and Jean laughs as Yuri slides an arm around them both. “I wish I knew that trick in Havana.” How can this be real?

Otabek lets Jean kiss him, and he sees Yuri’s smile when he presses his face close to Jean’s. How likely is it, in this whole universe, that JJ’s tongue would be swirling with the soft promise Otabek heard from Yuri? “I can hear you thinking, Beks.” Jean presses his cheek against Otabek’s hair. “You pissed us off. If you thought standing us up was going to make us run after you, well…” Yuri rolls his eyes at that and Jean nudges Yuri for it. “Don’t, Yuri.” Yuri snorts at him. “Typical Otabek. Run and hide just to see who’s looking for you. Turn back up and surprise, surprise.”

Otabek watches Yuri smirk back at Jean and Otabek knows there are conversations between them, conversations they have had without Otabek, that each is thinking of right now. He wonders when Yuri stopped hating Jean. Or was it always an act? Was he pretending, like Jean used to pretend he was straight? Did he, does he, _love_ Jean?

“Beks.” Yuri says this nickname as if it’s natural. He’s used it before, just never to speak directly to Otabek. “What the fuck happened? Why didn’t you show up?”

Jean’s tracing slow circles on Otabek’s chest. His breath stirs his hair. Otabek takes a deep breath. They might push him out the door for this, but he knows they’ll push him out for lying, too. “You two were getting along pretty well. Really well. It feels like being a third wheel.” There, he turns and Jean’s eyebrow goes up.

“Wow, Beks. How about you just admit you were mad about that?” Jean smiles. He makes it sound so easy. Otabek huffs. He remembers when Jean couldn’t even admit he liked dick. Now he’s the one calling Otabek on his bullshit. “Hey, don’t frown. That’s Yuri’s job!”

Otabek has to laugh because Jean’s tickling him now. And he’s tickling Yuri too. And somehow, Yuri’s pulled the pillow out from under them and he’s trying to bat them both with the fucking thing and — “Fuck!” — Yuri screams because he’s managed to tear the damn thing. There are fathers, tiny little fluffy feathers are floating everywhere, and they’re all laughing now.

How is it possible? Otabek picks a feather out of Yuri’s hair and Jean blows it out of his hand. “Missed you Beks.” Jean’s so serious so quickly. And his eyes, his eyes are the greyest skies. “Don’t you get it? I missed you. Yuri missed you. And I know you missed us both. You can’t lie and say you didn’t.”

“Shut up and show him,” says Yuri as he sits up and pulls off his pants. “Sick or waiting for this.” He pulls Otabek’s fly down, next.

++

Havana was an idea, a website, a dot on a map. Otabek listened to Salsas during his runs that found their way into his club mixes. But they sounded far away, like the dot.

 _you free on the 24th?_ Jean was making the hotel reservations.

Yes, he was free. Coach wanted him to take a three day weekend and she didn’t need to know he’d be going halfway round the world.

_me and kitty can’t wait to play_

Otabek wanted to throw his phone through the window.

Jean never talked like that before Yuri, and Yuri never asked Otabek to call him kitty when they were in Spain. And that was all he had been doing with either of them since Barcelona. And yet Jean, the same Jean who couldn’t spare more than a quick toss off in a janitor’s closet for Otabek, had spent all his free time at World’s in Yuri’s hotel room. He made sure to send Otabek plenty of pictures.

 _Kitty_...

Otabek never got around to buying his tickets. There was always a good reason: he could get a better deal on weekdays. He was tired. His phone was on low battery. The sky was blue. Jean and Yuri were a thing. Yeah, always a reason not to book.

By the time the 23rd came Otabek had stopped messaging them back. Not that they noticed. The shared text conversation was dominated by filthy photos Jean and Yuri sent back and forth to each other. Neither even bothered to ask what his flight number was or when he was coming in. They were too interested in finger fucking themselves and jerking off. Otabek did the same when he looked at the photos. But he never took any picture of himself to send. He just tossed the phone on the bed and wiped the come away as best he could so it wouldn’t stick to his sheets.

He woke up on the 24th watching the sun rise over Almaty. He hasn’t scheduled any time off. There was no flight to catch. There was only another day of training and the full knowledge that he was alone.

They didn’t call. They didn’t text. They didn’t care. They were in love and he was _Otabek_. He thought about cruising a club that weekend. He got as far as the bouncer, who watched him turn on the ball of his foot and walk away.

He didn’t expect to hear from them again. He deserved it, after all. The message was a surprise. It was just a video. It was twenty minutes long. The file was titled _wish you were here_.

Otabek played it on his laptop. Listened on his headphones. The lighting was dim but the camera angle was good, probably set on some kind of dresser or end table so he could have a full shot of Yuri riding Jean like a stallion.

Then, a day later, after Otabek refused to respond, Yuri left a blistering voicemail, variations of _I hate you_ over ten minutes. Otabek erased it as soon as it was over. It was no good, Yuri’s message played on a nonstop loop in his head.

That was the last direct contact from either of them. A week later Jean posted that he an Isabella had broken their engagement. ( _Staying the best of friends bc that’s JJ Style!!_ ) A week after that Yuri used his account to announce that Jean Jacques Leroy was his exclusive property with a picture of Yuri sitting on Jean’s lap and the caption—

_MINE!!!! don’t like? fuck off /die! (u know who u are!)_

jjleroy15 liked that comment.

++

Otabek is losing his mind. There are hands, hands all over his body. And mouths, Jean’s mouth is on his while Yuri’s mouth is on him and he _swears_ they’re moving in sync. Otabek groans when Yuri stops sucking the head of his dick and starts bobbing up and down.

“You look so good when you’re getting sucked,” Jean tips up his chin and watches Otabek’s face. “Man, remember all those nights up in my bunk? When you taught me how? I loved the look on your face.”

Otabek nods. Yuri is nosing his balls now. He peers up at them with one green eye while he laps at Otabek’s sack like a lazy, greedy cat. No wonder Jean calls him kitty. “I guess he taught you, Yura?”

Jean kisses him hard, thrusts his tongue deep inside, then he kisses him softly, presses his lips against his. Yuri isn’t sucking him anymore. He’s reaching for the nightstand.

“Wanted you so bad!” Jean bites Otabek’s ear as Yuri straddles Otabek’s thighs. Yuri groans when he shoves one finger inside himself. So does Otabek. Jean holds on to Yuri’s wrist as he begins to fuck himself. “Both of you. All of us.”

“You _are_ crazy.” Yuri is jerking himself off, too. “Fucking insane asshole.” He laughs when Jean sits up and cups Yuri’s face.

Jean kisses him. Moans when Yuri pumps his cock and thrusts into his hand. “You love crazy.” Then Otabek feels slippery hands on his cock. “And I’m not the only crazy one, am I kitty?” God, its so much. Otabek groans and he reaches for them.

He needs more. He needs Yuri, and he tumbles Yuri down on the mattress. He spreads his legs and there’s lube and there are fingers, and they all shove their fingers inside. And they all groan. “Yura!” Otabek is kissing him. Then he’s kissing Jean as he pushes his cock deep inside.

But he needs more. Jean kisses his neck, sucks the mark he made and grinds against Otabek’s ass as he thrusts and Yuri snarls and grabs at them both. He needs more, and there is more. Hands touch and a finger pushes just a little against Otabek. Just enough to make him grunt and nod. “Yes!” He shouts when it goes deep and hard as he shoves himself balls deep inside Yuri.

“Fuck him,” Yuri’s chanting over and over. “Fuck fuck fuck him!”

Two, three fingers in, Jean is kissing his back, murmuring in low, dirty Quebecois and Yuri is so tight, so hot and tight and it’s so good, so fucking good. “God, I love you.” Otabek groans when Yuri takes his hand and pulls him down. Then he sobs when Jean pulls his fingers out and pushes himself inside. This is what he needs. What he’s needed for so long.

“Love you, Beks,” Yuri holds him. Jean holds him. And then they move.

++

The sun is bright, even through the heavy curtains and Otabek is feeling sick. Two cases of morning breath blasting in his face aren’t helping much, either.

God, it’s really possible to tangle three peoples’ legs together when they’re crammed on a twin bed. Yuri is laying on top of both of them. JJ is snoring with his mouth open (some things will never change) and Otabek needs to piss. And maybe puke.

“What time is it?” Yuri asks in Russian. He’s rubbing his eyes. “Fuck me! My head! Jeh Jeh! Wake the fuck up! Get my Advil, fuckhead!” He nudges but nothing happens. “Great.”

Otabek stumbles but he manages to stand up, somehow. He’s sore and sticky and his head is pounding. But he’s not miserable.

Well, possibly not. He opens Jean’s black suitcase. “You want two?” He pops the bottle top.

Yuri sitting up and blinking. “Three. Where’d he keep it?”

Otabek fills a glass at the bathroom sink and helps himself before Yuri gets his three. Otabek offers the same glass. “Upper left side. He always keeps his meds there.” He’s still on the Depakote, but that Celexa is new.

Jean stops snoring. He’s talking in his sleep, something about JJ style and a load of curses he’s never say, at least in English. Yuri grabs Otabek’s hand. “You really hurt him. You know that?”

He can’t talk when his skull is about to crack. Not about this. About _them_. But he nods.

Yuri gulps down the rest of the glass. He snarls when he stands and he almost falls. But Otabek catches is arm. Yuri huffs. “He loves you. Fuck!” Yuri squeezes his hand and Otabek knows.

“Yuri loves you, too.” Jean’s voice is rough. But he’s awake, somehow. And he’s putting a pillow over his head. “Quit yelling.”

Otabek puts his hands over his ears when Yuri takes a deep breath. “This is yelling, douche! And don’t speak for me!” Yuri laces their fingers together. “You hungry?”

Otabek snorts. “Hell, no. But we better get breakfast, anyway.”

Yuri presses his lips against Otabek’s knuckles. “Whatever happens after this…” Neither one of them can finish that.

Room Service happens. Coffee and waffles happens. Jean sits up and flops back down when Yuri announces the syrup isn’t maple. Yuri scrolls through his phone and Otabek lays back down in the bed, feeling the headache leave like morning mist as he traces the lines of Jean’s broken heart tattoo.

“I want to fix it.” Jean opens one eye. “Fill in the break.” Yuri slides up behind Otabek and kisses his neck. “What do you think?”

Otabek takes a deep breath. “We’re gonna cause a scandal, you know that?”

Jean sighs. “This guy I knew. He was crazy. Said the craziest things to me. Turned me on so bad, turned my life upside down, you know? Except there was this one thing he said. It wasn’t crazy at all.”

“And what’s that?”

“You wanna enjoy life or suffer?” Jean smiles. Otabek knows which one he chooses.


End file.
